Countdown
by Reaper6883
Summary: It is currently the year 2062 and the world is in a state of shit... Half the world is uninhabitable, the economy is in shambles, bandits are fucking everywhere, about 60% of human kind is dead and to top it all off there's been some sort of robot uprising in Eastern Europe. So I guess this is where we come in...
1. Transfer Orders

**Access Granted**

**External Hardrive Detected**

**Access External Hardrive?**

**Y/N**

**Scanning...**

**No Malware Detected**

**Transfer Orders**

I apologise for the discreet nature of this message. This was hardly something I can discuss with you over the phone or in person.

It has come to my attention that there has been a requisition from the New Soviet Union to assist with recent developments along with the growing concerns from the Pan European Union.

I can understand their concern. From the reports I've received from Operation: Cube, Now the infamous Butterfly Event, I can see why the governments are anxious for a more... human touch. Furthermore, the contract was primarily meant to serve as a means to maintain Sypher's political and industrial relations; now serves another use. To which I am not cleared to discuss due to standard security protocol and influence of

**[̴̴̢̧̺͖͇̜̳̈́̆ͬͩ͂͆̚͟Ḑ̵̛̼͙̪̘̲̙̮̘̣̯̱̩̦̺͍̫̹́̊͋̓̓ͦͩ̑ͯ̒ͨ͗ͩ̿͘ͅą̸̘̭̣͍͚͚̬͈̝̙͔̈́̔͌͂̀͞t̸̡̨͕͇͙͔̼̬̞̰̼̃͗ͨ͌͂̓̂̔̓̈̒́ͅaͭͧ͐ͣ̏͋͒̓ͣ͊͐͒̆ͫ͏̡̫̻͕͕̪͔̯̱̦͍͚͕͕̠̞̠̦̖̖̕͜ ̶̴̛̗͚͔̻͉̞̥̲̗ͮ͗ͭ͂ͤ͒̽ͧ̌ͯ̾̈̄̿̾c̵̞͔̘͕ͣͦ̉̏ͪ͛͒̃̑̑̚ͅo̷̸͈̼͇̜͍͍̩͙͍̓̇͊͂ͯ̔̑̈̈́̐̒̇ͫ̏ͩ̾͡r̶̻̘̜͓̲̥̪̣͙̦̍̏ͯ̓͂ͯͪͥ̎́̚͝͝r̶̞̩̭̮̲͔̹ͭͩ̍ͪ̂ͤͥ̓͌̿ͮ̑ͦ̾́̕͞u̵̢͕͔̜̯̯͕͖̻͇͖̰͎̼̫̹͇͓̰̗̅ͣ́̽͝p͎̘̭̤̫̟͚͇̺̩͔̝̲͉͗̌ͬ͒́͒̈́̆́̒̏̂̚͘͞ͅt̟̗̥̱̠͕̭̜̙̳̤̮̗͔̞̘͖͗̃̔̐̊̎̀́̕e̡̞̫̦̱̜̞͓͚̼̪̟̻̹̰̪̝̔͋͑ͮͥ̀̍͑̀͗ͥ̾̎͐̓d̲͖̣͍̹ͦͧ̑̉̌̈́̃̽͆̎͊ͯ̊͝]̨̡̜̟͍͎͍͇̠̭͙͐ͤ͂ͭ̆̿̕**

Enclosed within this document is the official transfer orders and the roster for the task force members.

They will be designated as Task Force 515 'Invicta' and will be under your company's command and jurisdiction until the contract is complete. As for discretion, the other involved contacts will receive another version of this transfer order shortly, I wanted you to get the legitimate version and for me before the transfer, not having been manipulated for the agendas of others.

I will respect your intelligence, decisions and abilities to see through rhetoric. But I do not trust in the meddling and manipulation of others.

I hope you understand...

Task Force 515 'Invicta'

Name:

Codename: Spectre

Rank: Lieutenant (Acting squad leader for 'Invicta')

Age:

Nationality: United Kingdom

Former unit: Special Task Force '' ]

Former rifleman who served with the United Kingdom within **[REDACTED]**infantry brigade, **[REDACTED]**battalion. He served frontline duty in the mid to late years during WW3, seeing tours in: Eastern Europe, The Balkans and the Middle East.

After the war his battalion was demobilised to which he had been shortly acquired by Zero Corps. After Re-evaluation he had served extensively with Task force 11 'Jaegers' before being selected as a potential candidate for Task Force '' ]. To which he was chosen to be assigned to.

**[EXPUNGED]**

[Level 4 clearance needed to access mission reports and case files]

Name: Logan Spencer

Codename: Fox

Rank: Staff Sergeant

Age: 27

Nationality: United States of America

Former unit: Task Force 28 'Bandogs'

Former combat engineer of the **[REDACTED]**Marine Division,**[REDACTED]** Marine Expeditionary Force in the USMC. Fox had participated in the liberation of Korea and later the invasion of China during WW3.

After the war, he had been part of peacekeeping operations with the USMC prior to acquisition. He was assigned to Task Force 28 'Bandogs' after re-evaluation and has taken part in multiple Counter-Terrorism Operations, Sabotage, Demolitions, and the security and protection of Zero Corps and affiliated assets.

Name: Ashley Miller

Codename: Sharky

Rank: None (Will be assigned the rank Corporal for the duration of the contract)

Age: 23

Nationality: United States of America

Former unit: The Grizzlies (3rd party PMC with relations with Section 0)

Currently a member of the PMC 'The Grizzlies' but will be attached to 'Invicta' as per the contract.

She has no known military service and the extent of her service with the PMC along with how she gained her skills in combat is unknown. The lack of formal records may be because the PMC is more of a criminal syndicate or cartel and records are not made as to protect their operations and members, should they fall into the wrong hands.

Despite this, Sharky's performance has been exemplary and has been proven reliable in missions involving the criminal underworld and when it is imperative that actions must be taken but not be traced back to Zero Corps.

Name: Alexa Runov

Codename: Deadeye

Rank: Corporal

Age: 27

Nationality: New Soviet Union

Former unit: Advanced Recon Unit 17 'Watchmen'

Deadeye was conscripted into the Grand Army of the New Soviet Union during WW3 we're she had trained and served as a sniper in the **[REDACTED]**Separate Guards Motor Rifle Brigade. She had seen tours in Afghanistan, Central Asia and Eastern Europe.

After the war she worked as a mercenary guarding towns and villages in Eastern Europe. Her skills were eventually noted when the town of Pereyiv, a town near the exclusion zone in the former country of Ukraine, was attacked by raiders when a Zero Corps convoy was passing through.

She was recruited and re-evaluated shortly after and was assigned to Advanced Recon Unit 17 'Watchmen'. A unit which specialises in: Reconnaissance, Covert Operations, Guerrilla Warfare, Counter Terrorism Operations and missions involving the Exclusion zone.


	2. 515 Weapons Manifest

**Spectre Loadout**

**Primary: L85A4 with M203**

The L85 Rifle variant has been the standard issue service rifle of the British Armed Forces since 1987, replacing the L1A1 variant of the FN FAL. The A4 variant was introduced in 2047 to meet battlefield requirements of WW3, improving ergonomics and firepower.

**Type:** Assault rifle, Automatic rifle, Designated Marksman rifle

**Manufacturer:** RSAF Enfield, Royal Ordnance, Ferranti

**Cartridge: **6.67x51 mm NATO

40x46mm SR (M203)

**Secondary: SDP Valkyrie 45**

The Valkyrie is a semi-automatic, recoil operated, magazine fed handgun and is unquestionably Sundowner Defences most popular handgun. Serving as a popular sidearm for militaries, PMC's, law enforcement as well as civilians alike for its very high velocity and ability to punch through even the strongest armour, despite criticisms of it being heavy and clunky.

**Type: **Semi-automatic pistol

**Manufacturer: **Sundowner Defence

**Cartridge: **.45 ACP

**Fox Loadout**

**Primary: M27 IARA2 SAW (ZC)**

The M27 Infantry Automatic Rifle (IAR) is a lightweight, magazine-fed, select-fire weapon based on the Heckler & Koch HK416. It was the main rifle of the USMC from 2018. The A2 variant was used in 2048 as the standard rifle for all branches of the US military. This version is modified to act as a Squad Automatic Weapon (SAW) and designed especially for Zero Corps.

**Type:** Assault Rifle, Automatic Rifle, Designated Marksman rifle, Squad Automatic Weapon

**Manufacturer: **Heckler and Koch, Zero Corps

**Cartridge: **6.67x51 mm NATO

**Secondary: SDP Valkyrie 45**

**Deadeye Load-out**

**Primary: Sv106**

The SV106 is a bolt action sniper rifle designed and manufactured by Kalashnikov Concern using parts based on the SVD and L96. It was introduced in 2037 to replace the New Soviet Union's ageing inventory of sniper rifles and has proved to be a highly effective and easy to manufacture rifle with an astounding service record during WW3. This version is the early version of the Anti-material rifle.

**Type: **Sniper rifle, Anti-material rifle

**Manufacturer:** Kalashnikov Concern

**Cartridge:** 12.7x108mm

**Secondary: MP7A3**

The Heckler & Koch MP7 (Maschinenpistole 7) is a German manufactured personal defence weapon (PDW) designed and manufactured by Heckler & Koch for NATO in 1989. The A3 is the latest revision of the weapon, improving: ergonomics, mobility and designed to chamber 9x19mm parabellum rounds.

**Type: **SMG/ PDW(Personal Defence Weapon)

**Manufacturer: **Heckler and Koch

**Cartridge: **9x19mm parabellum

**Sharky Loadout**

**Primary: Benelli M1014**

The Benelli M4 Super 90 is an Italian semi-automatic shotgun manufactured by Benelli Armi SPA. Despite being over 50 years old, it remains to be in production and a favourite among military, law enforcement units and civilian enthusiasts.

**Type: **Shotgun

**Manufacturer: **Beneli Armi SPA

**Cartridge: **12 gauge

**Secondary: Beretta M9A3**

The Beretta M9—officially the Pistol, Semiautomatic, 9mm, M9—is the designation for the Beretta 92FS semi-automatic pistol used by the United States Armed Forces. The M9 was adopted by the United States military as their service pistol in 1985 until it was replaced in the early 2030's. A very large number of these sidearms are in circulation in arms vendors as well as the black market and are cheap and easy to acquire.

**Type:** Semi-automatic pistol

**Manufacturer: **Beretta

**Cartridge: **9x19mm parabellum


	3. Area S09

"This is Umbrella 1-1 to tower, requesting permission to land. Over"

"This is tower, roger that, we have you on radar, cleared to land on helipad 02,"

"Affirmative-"

No one said a word as the only thing that broke the stale silence was the whirring of the rotors overhead and the chatter of the pilots to the base's control tower co-ordinating their landing and monitoring their controls to make sure the approach was as smooth as possible.

Spectre thought silently to himself.

It was pitch black outside and the only source of light was from the cockpit. It was the middle of the night and he was feeling groggy. Perhaps he should take the time to get a little shuteye. He's had a rough time falling asleep after he received his injuries. They were mostly healed though, despite the mild discomfort they occasionally caused him. Otherwise he'd still be at sickbay hooked up to an IV drip, probably under anaesthesia and stitches in his chest.

His eyelids started to become heavy as he started to drift off to sleep embracing the soft soothing silence as exhaustion took hold of him wrapping around him like a warm fluffy blanket.

"THE FUCK YOU LOOKING AT RUSKI!"

Nevermind...

"I wasn't doing anything," mumbled a hooded figure with a slight Slavic accent, "I was merely-"

"That sounds like bullshit!" the loud, high pitched and slightly raspy voice yelled out again, "Don't lie to me Fry-Face!"

Spectre swore he saw one of the Russians ruby red eyes twitch a little under her hood, "Call me that... One. More. Time."

"Oh, didn't you hear me. Let me slow down a little for your little Soviet brain, _Fry-Face_."

The Russian woman stomped forward and the blonde wearing a kevlar vest with tribal tattoo's on her bare, well-toned arms shot up, itching for a fight.

"Cut it out both of you!" a man clad in a black uniform with the rank of Staff Sergeant stepped in, using his arms to prevent the two from coming any closer. He was Staff Sergeant Logan Spencer, codenamed Fox, and he seemed to be the only disciplined one (besides Spectre) in the entire team. He wore a tactical plate carrier along with a black M88 helmet along with a balaclava. If he wasn't assigned to the team Spectre would have lost his mind, knocked out the pilots and would turn around and go home, or if he was _really_ desperate, jump off.

"You two are out of line!" Spectre barked. His gruff voice echoed within his FM12 gas mask, yet it had enough weight for them to stop what they were doing, "Need I remind you that we are on a contract from the local government and on orders from the board of directors. Behave yourselves."

Sharky scoffed.

"That especially goes for _you_, Sharky. Otherwise I'll see to it that I dock your pay. Or would you rather go back to your boss penniless. Speaking of which, your boss sounds like a scary lad, what would your boss do to you if you came back with empty pockets on such a lucrative job like this I wonder?"

That seemed to shut them up as they slunk back down onto their seats.

Spectre sighed, "Christ, how did I get into this bloody mess?"

* * *

Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock.

The hands of time marched forward, yet, it feels like nothing has changed. Well, at least while he was still trapped in this dreary office.

It was cubed shaped with plain white walls and a boring grey carpet. No windows and the only exit to the outside world was a single mahogany door. It felt more like a jail cell in an insane asylum rather than an actual office.

Sitting in front of him was a man in his late 40s that was as plain as the office itself. Looking as if he was part of it.

He wore a plain grey tuxedo, white T-shirt and a pair of brown rimmed spectacles with combed brown grey hair and a moustache. There were no family photos on his desk, no art, no potted plants, nothing to indicate he had a life beyond the 4 walls. The only thing on the desk was a computer and a blue file sitting in front of him.

Spectre didn't know the mans name but he only addressed him as 'Sir'.

"We're sorry to have brought you in after such short notice and after everything that has happened to you..." the man adjusted his spectacles. Even though what he said was _supposed _to be sympathetic, his voice carried no emotion at all. Almost as if he was a robot programmed to follow detectives from some an unknown power, "But we have a... request for you. It's from the board of directors."

"The board of directors?"

"Yes, they have a job for you. If your interested,"

"Couldn't they have gotten someone else?" Spectre asked, "I was only discharged several weeks ago from the last job..."

The man removed his spectacles and wiped them with a cloth, revealing full hazel eyes. Spectre wondered what secrets were hidden behind them before he put them back on.

"Yes, I agree, it is a little rushed. But if you didn't already know our resources are currently stretched rather thin dealing with-," the man though for a moment, "Internal strife..."

"Yes, but that doesn't explain. Why me?"

"Why not you? Your accolades should speak for themselves," he turned to his computer and punched a few digits and letters onto the keyboard, "August 16th 2051 at 1351 hours, near the end of the war. Your platoon commander was killed when his vehicle rolled onto a landline and was followed by an ambush. You organised the platoon into defensive positions and managed to hold position with little casualties long enough for reinforcements to relive you. February 26th 2049 at 0225 hours your transport plane was shot down by SAM's over Berlin, deep behind enemy lines. You were the only survivor and received an injury on your left leg. You evaded enemy patrols and avoided combat wherever you could. But on the way back to your lines you destroyed 5 anti-air emplacements and and several supply caches, which were along your planned route home, with explosives. Which significantly reduces allied losses allowing them to retake Berlin. There is plenty more but I wouldn't want to bore you..."

"I think I got the picture, sir,"

The man clasped his hands and leaned forward, "So, what do you say?"

"I guess I have no choice do I?"

The man smiled, the light reflecting off his glasses, "Excellent, I knew you would make the right decision," He slid the blue file towards Spectre, "This file contains the details of the contract, objectives and your squad members. I suggest you read it tonight. You will be deployed 2 days from now at 0500 hours to Grifon and Kryugers headquarters, from there you will be under their command and they'll decide how to best use you. We've got good relations with them, that's why they've agreed to take you on. So don't mess this up."

Spectre nodded and turned to leave, "I wont, sir,"

"I know you wont." he replied, turning back to his computer, "Oh, by the way, try your best and do watch your backs out there. We don't exactly know what's going on in there but it cant be any good. For the locals, the government or even Sypher itself. Do keep that in mind-"

* * *

The helicopter landed smoothly as Fox slid open the door revealing a pair of young girls. One had dirty blonde hair and wore what looked lie a girl scout uniform of some kind, carrying an FN FNC rifle. She looked to be about 15.

The other was slightly older, around 19. She had strawberry blonde hair with a pair of shades nestled on them. She wore a brown jacket and a white T-Shirt which partially revealed a lingerie bra with a pair of stockings and a tablet in her gloved hands.

"Hiya, I'm 2nd lieutenant Kalina. I'm in charge of logistics for the base and the commander adjutant," she said in a cheerful demeanour, "Which one of you is in charge?"

"That would be me,"

"FNC, can you please show them to their dorms?"

The girl called FNC saluted, "Yes ma'am!"

Kalina turned back to Spectre, "If you would follow me,"

Spectre did what he was instructed. Following Kalina through the base, past what looked like to be small hangars or warehouses.

"So... was that a T-doll?" Spectre asked.

"Yes, the one just now was FNC," Kalina replied, "What? Have you never seen a T-doll before?"

"Well not these kind before. I wasn't expecting little girls..."

Kalina giggled, "Then what were you expecting?"

"A big scary robot that looks like a Gundam," Spectre chuckled, "Y'know, like the one the KCCO use-"

The lieutenant led him to an administrative building which Spectre assumed to be the base's command and control. She eventually led him to a door, which was the Commanders office. She knocked.

"Come in," a female voice replied.

Spectre walked into the office and saluted. He was greeted by a woman wearing GandK's formal uniform. Which was a red trench coat with a black trim. She was about 22 years old and her hair was short and clearly dyed, fading from grey-silver to pink.

"At ease. Kalina, leave us please,"

Kalina saluted and closed the door behind her.

"Take a seat, Mr?"

"I'd prefer it if we go by my codename, 'Spectre'," he stated blandly.

"Very well, Spectre. My name is Gentiane and if wasn't already obvious, I'm the commander of this base," she said, "I'm going to be blunt with you. Kryuger and Helian were quite vague about the details of the infamous Zero Corps getting involved in our little predicament. But right now, we could use all the help we can get. The company is lacking the experienced commanders needed to command our T-dolls. I've already got my hands full trying to deal with the vast numbers of Sangvis in my area with the current pool of resources and lack of manpower, so the extra help is welcome,"

"Something tells me that I wasn't brought here so you could rant about your problems,"

"Your perceptive. I like that in a man~"

Spectre blushed from the suggestive comment. But lucky for him, it was concealed behind his gas mask and he quickly regained his composure.

Gentiane cleared her throat, "You see, the situation here is changing rapidly. 2 days ago, a team of experimental T-dolls, called the Anti-Rain team, lost contact with 16LAB within Area S09. 16LAB's owner has contracted us locate them, has been made a top priority and has been called operation 'Sugarcube'."

She suddenly yawned and looked at a clock, "Its getting late. We should pick this up another time. Kalina should be waiting outside, she'll show you to your dorm,"

Spectre stood up and turned to leave, "Goodnight Ma'am,"

"Goodnight, Spectre. But please, call me Gentiane next time, I'm not a big fan of formalities."

"Got it. Goodnight, _Gentiane,"_

Silence ensued as soon as the door closed followed by the ticking of the clocks hands.

Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock.

Gentiane looked at the clock, it read 12AM. As the hands ticked down Gentiane thought to herself.

What were the likes of Zero Corps doing here with GandK?

They were, officially anyway, a PMC and would occasionally take on contracts but it seemed unlikely they would accept one from another PMC. Yes, they currently had ties with GandK, but would that really just be the reason?

Zero Corps functioned more like a private army or a military branch of some sort of organisation. They usually kept to themselves and protected their own assets and operated in secrecy.

So what would they gain to benefit by fighting out of control T-dolls in Eastern Europe?

Or perhaps the Sangvis was just an excuse to intervene and accomplish some sort of hidden objective. She couldn't put her finger on it, but there was else something going on.

She smiled, "Maybe I'm just exhausted..."


	4. 515's Explosive Debut

The early morning sun started its long arc from the horizon, as its rays made their voyage to the earth, illuminating the sublime green mountains of the Carpathians. The sound of helicopter blades chopped through the air and echoed throughout the valley as the black helicopter flew elegantly as it banked through the trees and hills.

Spectre was half asleep, kept awake by the sudden adjustments of the helicopters course, looking silently out of the window while Fox was starting a conversation with one of the crew chiefs.

"Hey man. Do those Sangvis dolls really wear those skimpy ass outfits?"

"That's what I've been told. I heard they either wear those tight ass leotards or those revealing fucking bikini's. Not sure what practical use they hold other than giving us guys something to gawk at..."

Deadeye sat quietly next to him, ignoring Fox's perverted conversations.

Sharky was barely awake and in a grumpy mood. That morning she had to be dragged out of bed since she refused to get up, much to the dismay of her leader. She was a nuclear bomb ready to go off.

"Oi, Fox. Shut the fuck up would ya?" she yawned as she crushed a red bull can in her hands, "How are you still talking about pussy? You've been going on about it since this morning. You weren't babbling about it last night..."

"Hey, it was a long day, alright," Fox explained, "I was too tired to talk about the pussy,"

Once they neared the drop zone Spectre began to brief his team.

"Alright, Invicta. Listen up, because I'm only gonna say this once," Spectre announced sternly, grabbing the attention of his team, "We've received reports that a group of pirates that have just set up a base of operations in grid square Foxtrot 12. They have been raiding supply caravans en route to local towns and pose a threat to our supply lines. Hence the sudden wakeup this morning.

Our mission is to infiltrate and clear the base until an echelon is freed up to secure and occupy it. Were the only ones who can do this at this time, all other available echelons are busy with logistics and the commander cant send anyone else or risk jeopardising the security of the base. Any questions?"

"Weren't we supposed to be fighting the Sangvis?" Fox asked.

"The security and stability of Area S09 is why were here," Spectre replied, "Anything that jeopardises that is our responsibility, regardless of who or what they are,"

Fox groaned.

"Maybe next time bud," the crew chief replied.

They sighed and shook their heads.

"We're nearing the LZ now," the pilot said, "prepare to disembark,"

"Lets get this over with already," Sharky muttered as she readied her shotgun, "I need to get back to sleep and wake up from this nightmare..."

The Blackhawk came to soon stop and hovered behind a hillside with tall green grass and outcrops of rocks strewn across it which overlooked the bandit camp in the distance, far enough for them to not be spotted.

Ropes were let down as the crew chief gave the signal and the mercenaries quickly rappelled down, positioning themselves defensively around LZ's perimeter as the helicopter flew off, the cold easterly winds biting and clawing at their faces like a savage cat.

Spectre looked out towards the bandit base using a pair of binoculars, scanning around for its layout, guard placements, static defenses, etcetera. Their base appeared to be an old, run down truck depot the pirates commandeered and fortified. He was able to make a mental map of the base.

There were about 20 men in total, the ones he could see anyway. About 4 of them were guarding the main gate, which had been fortified with sandbags and an MG nest covering the road. They were mainly armed with AK 15's, surplus from the war. The walls were made out of reinforced concrete and lined the perimeter of the base. They were 10ft high and lined with barbed wire. There were also a few old and decaying buildings and neat rows of shipping containers, most likely storing the stolen goods. A building, which Spectre assumed to be their HQ, was on the right side of the gate and was in relatively good shape. It was 2 stories tall and even had a functioning radio tower, presumably used to intercept radio chatter and to help co-ordinate raids.

With that he silently formulated a plan in his mind. Long range combat wouldn't be effective, their defences would make it inefficient and their ammo wouldn't last long enough for a prolonged engagement. So they had to resort to the only option he had with the cards at his disposal.

Close Quarters Combat.

"Deadeye, I need you to overwatch the base from behind those rocks. I need you to pick off anyone you may have eyes on when I give the order. Everyone else follow me. Were gonna need to be up close and personal if were gonna clear that base,"

The 3 then advanced towards the base, keeping low, using the trees, rocky outcrops and tall grasses to conceal their approach. They were like a pack of wolves stalking unsuspecting prey.

Spectre could hear his heart beat as it pumped blood chock full of adrenaline throughout his veins. He could feel the sensation of excitement and fear for the upcoming battle.

"Calm yourself," he thought to himself, "These are just bandits, nothing to worry about,"

They eventually reached just outside the front gate and took their positions. Sharky and Spectre on the gates left crouching behind a rock and Fox on its right behind a tree.

"Deadeye, are you in position?" Spectre whispered into his radio.

"Yes, sir,"

"What do you see?"

"Gate guards haven't moved. Around 10 of them currently visible in the compound. The rest are probably inside buildings,"

"Right. Take out the gate guards. Whenever your ready..."

There were 4 loud cracks in the distance, all in quick succession. Followed by the sound of tearing flesh. A bloodcurdling scream. And a pool of thick viscous blood.

"Frags out!"

Spectre fired over the walls into the compound with his underslung grenade launcher while Fox and Sharky threw their grenades.

Several explosions erupted from within, dismembering and killing several unlucky bandits who were caught in the blast.

The 515 stormed in, using the confusion to their advantage, stepping over the viscera left behind from Deadeye's handiwork.

Their base looked pretty run down up close. The buildings were in a state of disrepair and were practically crumbling. The plaster was starting to flake off the walls revealing a layer of brick underneath. Mother Nature was starting to reclaim the land springing up from cracks in the floor and green vines climbing up the walls.

Spectre was the first in, quickly readying his rifle and dispatching 2 dazed pirates before the rest retaliated, firing their AK15's on full auto. He took cover behind a white van as Fox pressed his back against a building wall along with Sharky.

Bullets whizzed past them. One wrong ill timed move would result in their heads exploding like watermelons or ending up looking like Swiss cheese.

**CRACK **

A crack echoed from the hills as one of the bandits burst into a cloud of fine pink mist.

"Sniper!" one of the bandits cried. They were now in disarray, scrambling to find cover out of the snipers sight.

Now was their chance.

"Move up!" Spectre barked, "Keep your heads down, and check your sectors!"

Sharky was the first to break cover, charging in with her shotgun towards a bandit who was still in the process of reloading. He panicked at the sight of the shark toothed blonde and fumbled around with his rifle, trying to bring it to bare.

But it was too late for him as she unloaded a 12 gauge shotgun shell filled with buckshot pellets. Smashing into his chest, point blank, his organs spewing out of the other side like a party popper.

Spectre and Fox followed closely behind her. Keeping her covered and taking down any stragglers left behind.

"Shooters on the building on the left!" Fox said, alerting his squad leader, "Top floor, 2nd window from the right!"

"Got it! Sending it!" Spectre loaded another round into his grenade launcher and fired into the building causing a tongue of flame to erupt and sending a shredded body tumbling out.

They were mopping up the bandits left, right and centre. The amateur outlaws were no match for the highly skilled mercenaries along with the watchful eye of the their hidden sniper. They stood no chance from the beginning.

To Spectre, it was almost as if he was playing a video game. A whole lot different from the last job. And he'd hoped it'd stay that way.

"Retreat! Get to the HQ and buy some time!" The remaining bandits turned tail to and ran to their HQ in a last ditch attempt to hold the base.

"Deadeye, were gonna need you to keep us covered while we clear out their HQ," Spectre said using his radio, "Everyone else on me,"

They made their way to the HQ, quickly taking down anyone who tried to stop them. They entered the run down and decrepit building and swiftly moved down the corridors, systematically clearing rooms and flushing out the pirates from their hiding places.

They were walking turrets, clad in black, programmed to kill quickly and with brutal efficiency. In that respect, they were no different from the out of control Sangvis they had yet to fight.

Dazzling flashes of yellow and cracks of gunfire echoed within the building as the mercenaries cleared out the last pockets of resistance.

"Fall back! Into the command room!" A bandit cried, "Go! Go! G-"

He was silenced by a bullet to the brain from Spectre, "Follow them,"

They pursued them to a door the pirates hastily blocked. Inside, they hastily started positioning themselves defensively, knocking over a cupboard to reinforce the door and flipping over tables to be used as cover and pointing their guns towards the door for one desperate last stand against the mercenaries.

"Stack on the door and prepare to breach. Fox, put a C4 charge on that door and detonate it when ready. Sharky, ready up with a flashbang and get ready to move in,"

Fox and Sharky positioned themselves opposite each other by the door. Spectre was behind her, keeping the corridor clear in case someone crept behind.

Fox placed the charge on the door and got the detonator ready while sharky had a M84 flashbang in hand.

"You ready?" he whispered.

"When am I not?" she scoffed.

Fox simply nodded in reply.

"3..."

"2..."

"1..."

"Breaching!"

The C4 detonated, obliterating the door causing it to rain splinters on the other side. The explosion was followed by a great flash of light, which enveloped the room, blinding and disorienting its occupants.

Sharky was the first in with her shotgun followed by Fox then Spectre, guns blazing.

The enduring firefight was blinding and ended almost as instantly as it began. There was nothing left but bullet holes riddling the walls and dead or dying bodies with a faint whiff of smoke.

"Clear!"

"Clear!"

"Room clear!"

"That's it..." Spectre let out a sigh of relief, "Where done here for today. Fox, Sharky, field dress the survivors and cuff them. Deadeye, you can regroup with us, were leaving."

Spectre radioed in the commander. "Ma'am. We've mopped up the bandits and the base is secure. requesting pick up and expect prisoners, over,"

"Blackhawk's on the way," the commander said, "And I thought I told you to stop calling me that,"

Spectre chuckled, "Sorry, old habits die hard. Over and out,"

"Wait a second..."

"What is it?"

Gentiane was silent for a moment before saying, "It looks like a column of vehicles. Technicals and IFVs. BMP 2's by the looks of it. ETA 3 minutes,"

"Damn! where'd they come from?" he muttered as he started piecing things together.

The empty garage.

The radio tower.

They must've had a mechanised unit out on the field before they fell back to but time for reinforcements to arrive.

Damnit.

Well, it was too late for Spectre to dwell on things.

Now was the time to act...

"How many of them are there?"

"4 technicals and 3 BMPs..."

"Understood..." Spectre replied. he then turned to his team, "I've just recieved word from the commander that the pirates have called reinforcements and they're coming in with mechanised infantry to fuck our day up. Now here's the plan..."

Spectre informed his team about the details of his plan before Sharky loudly interrupted, jumping up excitedly like a child.

"Oh. Oh. Oh. Can I use Ma'Deuss instead?"

"No, too risky..."

"Pretty please..."

"I said no,"

"Fuck ooooooff!" She whined, "Fine, 5 kills and I get a go,"

"No! Get to your position and wait for my signal,"

Sharky grumbled as she made her way to her planned position, "Oh well. At least I get to use my cutlasses," She pulled out a pair of Beretta M9A3's from their holsters. Both custom made. One coloured silver and red with engravings of a rose on the slide, the other gold and black with depictions of a dragon. "Lets have some fun..."

The armoured column drove single file down the path towards the base as he sat on the passengers seat, next to the driver, attempting to re-establish contact with the now silent base using the technicals ham radio.

"Hyena to mother base, come in. Over..."

Again, there was no reply and all that came through was static. The now eerie derelict buildings started to loom from the horizon, defensive positions completely unmanned.

The air was stale and unnaturally quiet, no wind, no rustling of leaves, no local wildlife, no nothing.

It was the kind of silence that would drive anyone insane. Perhaps he was insane and was over paranoid, making him wish to turn around and go raid another supply caravan.

"Move in closer and establish a defensive perimeter, I want the lead technical infantry to dismount and start looking for answers," the pirate leader ordered using the radio, "I want to know what happened here..."

They slowly advanced from the base, as the pirates left their vehicles and started spreading out. Looking for anything that could explain the silence.

"You see anything guys," the pirates leader asked nervously.

"This place has seen better days. Even at this distance, you can see bullet holes everywhere and damage to the buildings. Probably explosives..."

Bullet holes? Damage caused by explosives?

These were all signs of fighting.

"Hmm, start sweeping the base. See if you can find anyone. Make sure to check every nook and cranny,"

One of the pirates scoffed, "Idiots probably out and drunk aga-"

A loud explosion suddenly shook the valley, causing the raider leader to jolt up from his seat. The lead technical suddenly exploded into a ball of flames hurling shrapnel and killing the nearby infantry.

Their MG nest on the gate had set up started opening fire, revealing a highly armed and well equipped soldier wearing a gas mask, definitely not one of their guys. .50 cal rounds tore through the lightly armoured 2nd technical killing its crew and killing the passengers that didn't find cover in time.

Gunfire erupted from either side from an unseen enemy within the valley, chopping down anyone who wasn't behind cover. it was like shooting fish in a barrel.

"Get out! Get out! Get out!" the pirate leader screamed. He flung open the door, scrambling for cover. His subordinates didn't argue, knowing they were next in the line of fire, dismounting just in time before the bullets smashed into the technical. Setting its engine on fire and causing the fuel to ignite and explode.

Spectre kept shooting, mowing down anyone he saw. Moving on to destroy the next technical, riddling the machine gunner with holes before moving down into the drivers seat and knocking out the crew, putting it out of commission.

Spectre ordered, "Deadeye, start knocking out those BMP's with your anti-material rifle. Hit the one on the rear of the column first, that'll keep em boxed in,"

The armoured beasts started rumbling forward towards the gate. Infantry following closely behind, using it as a shield from the hail of bullets. She focused on the BMP, scanning its body for a place where the rounds would be able to penetrate.

"Top plate; 37mm effective thickness at this angle... side armour; about 25m, with that extra armour. Turret; about 17mm..." she lined up her shot, took a deep breath and squeezed the trigger.

Her rifle lobbed a 12.7x108mm round which punched through the turret killing the gunner and the vehicles commander. She fired several more times into the side of the hull, painting the fighting compartment red before another round collided with the ammo belts. Causing it to ignite before a pillar of fire to flared up from the crew hatches as if it were a volcano before being engulfed with flames. Incinerating its surroundings and sending shards of shrapnel flying.

Next!

She shuffled herself to line up for the next target. She took aim once again and fired a round into the rear plate. Causing the round to travel straight through the fighting compartment into the engine, setting it ablaze, before the crew could figure out what was happening.

They panicked, scrambling for the exits, crawling out of the hatches and stumbling through the rear doors.

"Now for the last one..." a flash of yellow zipped past her head, inches away from vaporising her skull. She pulled the trigger out of instinct and quickly ducked out the way as bullets tossed chunks of earth and rocks up around her, "I popped 2 of the BMP's. Couldn't get the last one, they caught on," she radioed to Spectre, "It looks like I took out the main gun though, shouldn't pose too much of a threat,"

Fox and Sharky continued to thin out the bandits numbers from both sides. Picking them off despite the heavy return fire from light machine guns.

"Damnit!" Sharky hissed, "These fuckers wont let up!"

"Here catch!" Fox primed his last grenade, "Better make this one count..." he thought as he chucked it towards a cluster of the bandits flinging parts of them across the field.

The last remaining BMP started moving forward towards the gate, acting as an impervious shield of steel from Spectre's .50 cal. Bullets pinged off its armoured frontal plate as it came to a sluggish stop. White smoke billowed from the rocket launcher attached to the turret. A 9M133 Kornet.

"ATGM! Missile!"

A javelin of fury screamed towards Spectre.

"Bollocks!" he shot up and dived out of the missiles way. It swerved hard to the left narrowly missing him and crashing into the side of a building, causing a part of it to collapse onto itself, "Fucking wanker! Cocksucker tried to hit me!"

The silhouettes of bandits advanced forward as the BMP and machine gunners covered their advance from his squad members. Spectre grabbed his rifle and dashed for cover as they started to open fire and dropped to the ground, skidding the last meter or so behind a blue car. Bullets ploughed into the side, riddling the doors with holes, smashing the windows and causing steam to float from the engine. It was a miracle that it still stood its ground.

"Fucking cunts!" he leaned out and squeezed off several bursts, killing several off them before retreating back into cover, "Where's that evac?"

"2 minutes!"

Spectre groaned before he composed himself, "You hear the lady! 2 minutes! Check your ammo, keep your head down and hold position!"

He checked his remaining ammo, swapping his empty magazine for a full one, leaving him with 2 remaining mags. Popping out of cover he let loose, the dazing rifle fire was black blinding. One by one the bandits started falling as bullets ripped through the air and the gunfire echoed throughout the mountains. Sheer adrenaline coursed through his blood as he changed cover, reloaded and opened fire.

Deadeye and Sharky fought with their sidearms.

Deadeye's MP7 buzzed while Sharky's twin Berettas rung melodically each time she pulled the trigger. Fox's M27 buzzed as it unleashed a barrage of bullets, it's ravenous hunger quenched by its belt fed magazine as they cut down the waves upon waves of its enemies.

A violent cacophony of gunfire.

Spectre emptied the last of his magazine and pulled out his Taurus 45, carrying on from where he left off. High velocity .45 rounds took tore off chunks of flesh and guts as they crumpled to the ground, motionless. The pistol recoiled strongly as he fired, controlled by Spectre's dextrous grip.

Something unexpectedly rammed against the side of his skull causing him to drop his handgun out of reach and slamming him into the floor.

A pirate butt him with the barrel of his AK and was now standing over him with his finger on the trigger. Spectre reacted quickly kicking away the rifle and causing the pirate to stagger back. Spectre drew his knife while the pirate raised his fists defensively and the two were at a standstill for a moment. He took a good look at his opponent.

A tall, stocky, well built man in his mid 40's. He wore old surplus tactical gear over dirty civilian clothes. His eyes had the look of a soldiers. Mercenary? Ex-military maybe? It didn't matter. All he needed to know was whether he was friendly or hostile.

And judging the situation he was in, _definitely _hostile.

Spectre made the first move, swiftly manoeuvring his knife in an attempt to impale his throat. The pirate reacted instantly, blocking him with his forearm before retaliating with a jab. He ducked down, dodging the flying fist, and kicked his legs, causing him to fall. Spectre lunged at his opponent as he rolled out of the way of his blade and getting back up quickly.

He went for another try, this time going for his abdomen to disable him before going for his throat to finish him off.

The pirate seemed to know what he was trying to do and acted quickly. Blocking Spectre's relentless attacks and eventually kicking him in the stomach. He recoiled in pain as he was sent sprawling to the floor.

The man now drew a knife of his own and pinned Spectre down as he plunged the knife down to his throat.

Desperately, he grabbed the knife, the blade just mere inches away from his throat as a warm runny liquid dripped from his hands and stained his uniform crimson.

The pirate and the mercenary were both locked in a stalemate, struggling for control of the knife. Spectre gritted his teeth as he pushed with all his might, the blade inching closer and closer to his throat.

The pirates eyes bore a familiar look of malice as the tip of the blade was pressed against his throat.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" his arms screamed as Spectre fought back with every ounce of strength but to no avail. They were at their limit.

This was it. He was going to die.

His entire life, all accumulated for this moment?

How pathetic.

The only purpose he had in life was about to be taken away.

A faint whirring sound started in the distance growing louder and louder, eventually surpassing that of the gunfire. Everyone heard it.

The pirate about to kill him turned to look for the source of the noise.

This was Spectre's golden opportunity as he knew perfectly well what the source of the whirring was. He grinned as he said to the confused pirate:

"Looks like the cavalry's here..."

A black hawk helicopter zoomed pass the battlefield. Door gunners opened fire with their M134 miniguns as hellfire missiles were launched from weapons pylons on the wings, smashing machine gun positions and the last remaining BMP.

Spectre quickly yanked the knife of the pirates dextrous grip, catching him off guard. he went in for the kill, slitting his throat as blood sprayed onto his gas mask. The pirate laid on the floor spluttering as he choked on his own blood. Spectre stabbed him violently several more times, putting him out of his misery.

He wiped off the bloody soup from his mask and watched the helicopter begin its descent as its complement of T-dolls dismounted and began securing the area and detaining the survivors.

The stoic mercenary looked out towards a sea of blood and flames. The valley, once green was now dotted with charred and bullet ridden corpses as the soil soaked up pools of the red liquid. He too was covered in it. Blood stained from head to toe.

At this age point he was used to it. This was what he was raised for.

His codename was 'Spectre'.

A ghost that haunted and brought misfortune to the living.


	5. To Remember The Basics of CQC

Her feet splashed through the puddles as she ran through the narrow alleyways and backstreets of a town long forgotten.

She had been on the run for several months. Several months since she left her sisters, who had acted as bait to buy time for her escape. Data from Lycoris's mainframe in hand, she trudged on forward lugging her rifle in her numb arms and avoiding the countless numbers of Sangvis patrols hunting her.

Dark grey clouds circled over head as wind blew softly through her long black hair.

The calm before the storm.

Eventually, she found an old apartment and decided to take shelter. Sweeping the interior for threats, checking every nook and cranny and behind every corner so a Sangvis wouldn't get the pounce on her.

"All clear,"

Satisfied, she barricaded herself in one of the rooms. The apartment definitely had seen better days. The room was damp and wet, the air humid and large colonies of mould grew on the walls. Not to mention the smashed windows and broken furniture. The previous owners must've left in a haste.

The conditions were less than hospitable, let alone healthy, but for M4A1, as long as it kept her dry and hidden from prying eyes, it was good enough.

She found a relatively dry and mould free corner and sat down.

"M16? Sopmod? Star? Are you still there?" she said softly into the radio.

Static.

She flicked through the channels and tried again.

"H-hello? Anyone reading me?"

Nothing.

She sighed as she stared at the ceiling as the downpour beat violently against the roof. exhaustion slowly took a hold of her as she slowly drifted off to sleep.

"You really got to be more careful! Its your first mission with us and you already gotten yourself hurt!"

"I know. I know,"

* * *

"If you died, that would've been a lot of paperwork you know-" blah, blah, blah.

Spectre was beginning to grow increasingly tired of the logistic officer berating him as if she was his non-existent mother. Deciding that enough was enough, he went to shut her up.

"Hey, Kalina,"

"Hmmmm,"

Spectre deadpanned, "Don't you have combat reports to write?"

Kalina froze for a second as a look of realisation slowly formed on her face before dashing off.

"Having a little lovers quarrel, sir?"

"Shut up, sergeant,"

Fox chuckled as he leaned on the doorway. His combat gear had been removed and he only wore his battle dress uniform,"So the rest of us are going to the mess hall. You wanna come?"

Spectre looked at his bandaged hands, balling them into fists.

"Maybe later for a beer, I need to brush up on my CQC,"

"You sure that's wise? Shouldn't you let your hands heal up first?"

"Positive. Ill be fine. Don't worry about me, just enjoy your lunch, you've earned it..."

Spectre left the Med Bay and made his way to the gym, passing through the bases corridors. He'd already acquainted himself with the layout of the base, so he could avoid the predicament of getting himself lost and asking for directions.

Soon he arrived at the gym. A large open space within the base where personnel and T-dolls could train and enhance themselves physically, filled to the brim with training equipment. Spectre wasn't interested in the weights or treadmills, however.

Within the gym were also a set of Training Dolls. They were essentially stripped down military T-dolls that replicated a human opponent in combat, whether it was on hand to hand combat to military combat training, they had their place on the military and civilian market.

Spectre approached a console and activated them.

"Initiating knife trading drill; level 8,"

3 of the training dolls were activated and drew their fake knives and started surrounding him.

Producing a fake knife of his own he put himself into a defensive stance, waiting for who would make the first move.

The training dolls rushed towards him. The closest one swung its knife at him.

Reacting quickly, he slapped its arms out of the way, preventing the knife from coming any closer. He grunted through the throbbing pain on his wounded hands retaliating with a swing of his own which the droid deflected.

They both attacked and blocked repeatedly. Both looking for an opening to inflict the killing blow. Their movements were quick and fluid, looking as if they were part of some majestic dance.

"Damn, it isn't letting up," he thought.

If this carried one Spectre would tire himself out which would make things more complicated. Giving his opponents the opportunity to overwhelm him with their numbers.

He suddenly ducked down, catching the training doll off guard.

If he couldn't find an opening, he'll make one!

He slashed the dolls knee several times before dragging the blade across the back of its knee causing it to fall back allowing him to land the finishing blow on its chest.

The next one made its move, lunging towards Spectre. He grabbed its arm, dragging it towards him, the kicked it behind the knee. Causing it to stumble allowing him to stab it in the back.

Feeling confident, Spectre dashed towards the last doll. It jabbed at him as he blocked its attacks before slashing its eyes, blinding it, the. Plunging the knife on its side. Finally, he flipped it over his shoulder and stabbed it again on the chest.

Slowly, the sound of clapping coming from the entrance of the gym caught his attention.

"Impressive,"

He turned to Gentiane walking towards him. She was wearing her more casual uniform which consisted of a white buttoned shirt, a short skirt complete with a black tie a pair of gloves and leggings along with a weapons holster for a sidearm.

"Gentiane, what are you doing here?"

"I'm bored. I had nothing better to do so I decided to walk around for a bit. That's when I heard all the commotion in the gym, so I decided to see what's up," she gestured. Then her the tone of her voice changed into a more authoritative one, "Lieutenant, is there something bothering you?"

"What?"

"Is there something wrong?"

"Nothing,"

"I'm your Commander. I'm in charge of the well-being of my subordinates, especially you Lieutenant. Besides, all my years as a Mercenary, my intuition has never once let me down. And right now, my intuition is telling me something's eating you up,"

Spectre remained silent for a moment before answering, "You've seen today's mission. It was all going smoothly before the enemy got the jump on us," he felt the frustration welling up inside, "That cannot be allowed to happen again..."

"The mission was successful, wasn't it? We secured the area, the pirate activity has ceased and everyone returned home safely,"

"Yes but I was sloppy and made mistakes. Mistakes that should've cost me my life! Now if you excuse me, I've gotta continue my training,"

"Ok then. Since I'm already here, I hereby challenge you to a duel," she said gallantly, "If I win you'll be taken off the next mission to recover,"

"I'm afraid I can't do that," he replied.

"That's a direct order,"

"Then what's in it for me?"

"Then you can take part in the next one. And I'll throw in a little bonus and treat you to the best alcohol on the base,"

Spectre replied as his interest peaked, "Alright then. I accept your challenge,"

The two made their way to their starting positions. Standing on opposite sides of the gym. Training knives were at the ready, waiting for who would make the first move,"

Gentiane's eyes dug into Spectre. Staring into his eyes veiled behind the crimson lens of his gas mask.

Spectre sprung into action, slashing at his commander. She back stepped, the knife missing her chest by mere inches and retaliated by making multiple quick lunges.

Her opponent blocked each of her attempts as they came, staving off her relentless attacks. She decided to change up her attack pattern slashing downwards before arcing her knife to make a lunge for his torso.

He slapped her knife out of the way before lightly kicking her in the chest. Causing her to stumble back, widening the gap between the two. Allowing him to take a breather.

"Impressive," Gentiane panted.

"Likewise," Spectre replied, recovering his breath and reassuming his combat stance, "I believe it's about time to wrap this up,"

"Agreed..."

They slowly began circling each other, eyes locked on their opponent. Analysing for openings like a wolf waiting for the perfect opportunity to pounce on its prey.

The air became stale as the gym fell silent.

They suddenly lurched forward.

Spectre dodged another attack and managed to land a punch in her jaw. She carried on, unfazed swinging her knife rapidly in random directions, overwhelming Spectre as he tried to block the onslaught.

She exploited an opening in his defence, uppercutting him in the stomach. Punching the air out of his lungs, causing him to collapse onto one knee, as he struggled to regain his breath.

Gentiane flipped her knife and plunged downwards, taking advantage of Spectre's moment of weakness for a quick and decisive victory.

To her dismay, his reaction time was on point, as he rolled out of the way and thrust his knife towards her thigh. She obstructed his attempt, her knife colliding with his, causing it to fly far out of his reach.

He yelped in pain. His hands throbbed as he backed away and raised his fists defensively.

"Haven't you had enough?" She asked, "Its never too late to forfeit,"

"Oh c'mon. Things were beginning to get interesting,"

"Fine. Have it your way then... But don't blame me if your wounds get worse," Gentiane bolted towards him, her knife firmly within her grip. Determined to finish the match once and for all.

"Quick!" Spectre thought, "Think of something or I'm fucking screwed,"

He had no other options. Running as fast as his legs would carry him, he sprinted towards Gentiane.

To her surprise he suddenly dived, catching her off guard. Grabbing her by the legs he used his weight and momentum to push her to the ground. She landed with a thud as Spectre straddled her, pinning her down. He tore the knife from her grasp and tapped her on the shoulder. Cementing his victory.

Gentiane was red in the face and panted heavily from exhaustion, condensing into little clouds. Spectre could feel her warm breath warm up his neck and his face inches away from hers.

"Looks like I win," he said.

"I guess I've underestimated you, Spectre. I'm gonna have to treat you then,"

The sound of muffled giggling emanating from the doorway caught their attention.

Gentiane summoned the might of her inner drill instructor , "Who's there!?"

The perpetrator collapsed in terror from behind the gyms doorway. A small girl wearing a nun's outfit. She covered her cat ears with her hands as she moaned.

"Uuuuu,"

"P7?" Gentiane called out getting the little handguns attention.

"Oh no!"

The Commander frowned, "Give it up girls. You've been found out,"

Next to P7, 2 other handguns revealed themselves. One was armed with the iconic C96 Mauser pistol and wore a rather skimpily clad clone of a Wehrmacht uniform.

The other wielded the Russian MP446 'Viking' and wore a grey beret with a matching jacket and shorts along with a red scarf. Spectre couldn't recognise the rank sign she wore or the uniform. Military Police, maybe? Best not to overthink things when it came to civilian T-dolls.

They bowed their heads apologetically, like children caught by their mother for misbehaving.

"Why were you eavesdropping?"

"Were sorry," Mauser replied, "We were passing by but wanted to see what you two were doing,"

"Yeah, so we ended up staying and watching..." Viking said.

"Because we wanted to see if you finally went and found yourself a boyfriend," P7 blurted our excitedly, "And by the looks of it, you two were about to do something dirty~"

Initially, the commander was confused, turning to face Spectre again, who hadn't moved. Then her red face started getting even redder and even warmer. Her heart beat faster than a belt-fed machine gun.

"Gentiane, are you alright? Your starting to heat up..."

The way he pinned her down and the fact that his face was so close to hers made it look like they were about to do something indecent.

The two were caught in each other's gaze before Gentiane squealed like a schoolgirl as they scrambled to get off each other.

"Pervert!" she planted her fist square into Spectre's face causing him to face plant back into the ground.

Her face was now red with anger, ears and nostrils fuming with steam with as she turned towards the 3 terrified handguns, who were now shaking as they huddled close together.

"You had some nerve bringing that up," she growled. She cracked her knuckles and approached them menacingly, "Hasn't anybody told you to keep your noses out of somebody's business..."

"We pissed off the Commander!" cried Mauser, "Run for your lives!" The trio ran into the corridor screaming as a furious Commander chased down after them.

"Ghhhrrrr, get back here! Your combat cores are mine!"

"AAAAAAAHHHHHHH! Please don't scrap us, Commander!"


End file.
